Word: mown
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This will be like turning pigs' knuckles into pate, but Rense, 47, has performed similar transmutations in the past. Cleon Knapp's Architectural Digest was a little-mown trade journal with a circulation of less than 50,000 when Rense, an advertising representative for California sportswear and cosmetics firms and a sometime freelancer for Cosmopolitan, applied for a job in 1970. When Knapp asked what she thought of his magazine, Rense replied: "Boring and poorly edited." She was hired on the spot. With a monthly circulation of 558,000, Digest in the past year carried more than...
Across the October countryside, the name mobilizes an instant and selflessly generous loathing. Checks fly in like barn swallows swooping to a mown field. Hillary Clinton is the most galvanizingly divisive candidate since... well, since Bill Clinton...
...thrall of the office is extraordinary. One senses it in unsingular things. For instance, I never saw so many lawns being cut at the same time. The smell of newly mown grass drifted out of the hills onto the flat land and overpowered the senses. There were American flags on the houses of the meanest and most ageless old recluses of my boyhood. The place was taut with pride. There was something touching in the spontaneity...
SALINA is almost literally the middle of America, lying in the wheat-rich Kansas prairie equidistant from either coast. The streets are wide and shaded by magnificent Dutch elms. The air is a sweet melange of fresh-cut wheat, mown stubble and clay baking on the river bottoms. A hot, dry wind pours across the plains from the Rockies. Westinghouse tested air pollution in every part of the country before deciding to establish a fluorescent-tube plant in Salina. Instead of traffic reports, the radio offers the latest fishing conditions...
...church, he eats with his fingers. He drinks and drinks and drinks some more from great pewter tank ards; when angered, he absentmindedly dashes beer into the face of a bulldog. He grabs young wenches by the backs of their skirts and topples them onto piles of new-mown hay. He is up to his pointed chin in geese, cattle, ducks, pigs, horses, and a yelping nation of dogs. Mornings, he can be found asleep on the hearth where he passed out, the coals of a great fire still dying beside him, a dog or two nestled in his armpits...